


A Bottle of Whiskey

by chelsietea



Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsietea/pseuds/chelsietea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Whatever game you're playing I'm not interested; I simply do not know why you're here". <br/>Lix reflects on Randall's sudden appearance at The Hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bottle of Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, this is my first attempt to write a fanfiction in English, I hope you'll like it.
> 
> It's just an introspective one-shot set during 2x01 - maybe it'll turn out in a chapter thing, who knows.
> 
> Thanks to HuddyJoy0524 (ms-obsessive-compulsive on Tumblr) for beta-reading, she's a wonderful girl and a great help.

The clatter of her heels echoed in the landing; she didn't even bother to take her shoes off. She didn't give a damn if she woke somebody. She didn't give a damn about anything, not tonight - Lix hadn't seen this coming, she hadn't at all.

He worked at The Hour as her head of news now: they worked in the same building but they couldn't be more distant from one another.  
What was he thinking?  
Did he really believe he could actually work where she worked? The place where she had fought so hard for a position, the place where she had gained a reputation thanks to her years of hard work, the place that she considered her home (and it really was; she spent more nights there than at her flat).

She had built her own world after what happened with him, a world of stone hearts and focused minds. But here he was again and, she was sure, all the walls she had so carefully built would come crumbling down.

She put her keys in the lock and entered her house with a frustrated groan, closed the door, leaned against the wood and dropped her purse on the floor.

Why now? After all these years?  
He had married another and was supposedly living "happily ever after".  
Why come back now, looking for her? (Because that was exactly what he wanted, of course it was. He didn't simply apply for a job that suited him, no, he wanted to work in the same place as her, haunt her each day, leave his mark in her life… as if he hadn't already).

His sudden appearance had stirred all the feelings she tried so desperately to stifle; her heart felt so heavy she feared it would drag on the floor.  
She sat there, her back against the door, her head on her knees, her shoes thrown away.

His sudden appearance had brought back so many memories (how could she forget them? Their bond was deep, so deep she had even given birth to his child - and this above all she hoped she'd forget. Although she knew she never could).  
She could never forget him and his strange habits, his grey eyes looking into hers like he could read her mind and movements, his soft, fair hair. Even his thin and rosy lips and his slender body that she never thought could be so strong and muscular, so gentle and caring, so… arousing.

She shook her head to clear her mind. She mustn't think of him like that now, or the pain in her heart would become unbearable.  
He had left her, hadn't he?  
He had left her to marry another woman, he had left her pregnant with his child.

Her conscience protested against her angry thoughts, but her mind was too far gone in memories to behave rationally. She was lost in the clear Spanish skies, the scents and the aromas that pervaded the air…  
Twenty years ago she would have been thinking about him at this moment, how he swooped her off her feet, his lips kissing hers, his body crushing against hers…

She was thinking of the same man she missed so terribly that her heart ached and her blood boiled in her veins. If her limbs could have screamed in pain, they probably would have.

She stood up, making her way to the kitchen. She opened the cabinet under the sink, chose a bottle of whiskey and started drinking directly from the bottle.  
No, he had abandoned her, he hadn't helped her during all those years; nobody had and nobody ever would. For now, she had to content herself with a bit of alcohol - well, more than a bit, actually.

«It has always been like this», she stated quietly to herself, «just me and a bottle of whiskey».

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are really appreciated. Thank you for reading.


End file.
